


Dark D'Artagnan|| First Fight Scene

by RedWillows



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M, dark d'art, dark!d'Artagnan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:47:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedWillows/pseuds/RedWillows
Summary: Musketeers, but D'Artagnan is dark.
Relationships: d'Artagnan & Athos | Comte de la Fère, d'Artagnan/Athos | Comte de la Fère
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Dark D'Artagnan|| First Fight Scene

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evekle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evekle/gifts).



> Blame Evekle if this is bad.

Gun clutched in his hand D’Artagnan marched into the Garrison, barely containing rage clear on his features as he called, “ I’m looking for Athos!”  
A man in a blue feathered hat with wild hair, scruff on his face, but eyes like two chips of ice replied, “ You’ve found him.”  
D’Artagnan raised his gun, furious and tense but a clear shot all the same with this distance,“ My name is D’Artagnan, of Lupiac in Gascony,” The young man tensed his jaw, the shot would be easy, yes, but he was here for revenge. He raised his gun instead, they would fight, “ prepare to fight, one of us dies here.”  
He heard one of them declare with a trace of humor in the clear sarcasm, “ Now that’s the way to make an entrance.”  
The man he’d come to fight, the one who owed him blood- Athos- drew his sword and after a moment of consideration asked, “ Can I ask why?”  
Without missing a beat as he twirled his sword, turned to the grim faced man,“ You murdered my father.”  
The man denies it, face emotionless as he replies, “ You’re mistaken. I’m not the man you are looking for.”  
Before he even finished his sentence, D’Artagnan charged at him screaming, “Murderer.”  
Athos threw up his sword barely in time and the fight began, D’Artagnan driving him back with reckless, angry bellows but Athos deflects them all before D’Artagnan slashes, forcing Athos to dodge and catch himself on the staircase. This man was a good fighter no doubt, but he attacked with such viciousness, he even carried a glint of cold glee within his eyes of fire and blood.  
The young man continues his questioning his hair wild and eyes bloodthirsty as their dance continues, “ Do you deny you shot Alexandre D’Artagnan two days ago in cold blood?”, he growls, knocking at Athos’ blade.  
Athos stares into the boy’s eyes, calculation and concern fighting within him as he tries to convince the boy he is telling the truth, “ I usually remember the men I kill, the name means nothing to me.”, he could not believe why this boy was after him, nor knew who this Alexandre was but he was certainly not the man to do this deed.  
The man’s eyes burn as he snarls, “ Then you’re a liar as well.”  
The young man slashes and tries to flay the older man alive opposed to Athos’ calculated blows, batting away the furious boy’s anger, feeling his own rise in response as the boy continues this pointless fight.  
He frowned as he pushed the boy back and dodged his blows. Kicking a basket of hay at the boy acting like a demon with a blade and leapt back at the boy, his mind racing to keep the boy from killing him or forcing him to kill him either.  
He blocked a particularly vicious blow as his companions began to comment on their fight and he grimaced- they were incredibly unhelpful most of the time. He frowned and knocked the boy’s short blade away. They exchanged a few more quick blows before the boy ducked back behind a post, and just as suddenly knocked a hanging bag away and lunged back sword aiming for Athos’ chest.  
Athos knocked the boy’s sword to the side and furiously pushed him back, and pressing his sword to the boy’s throat, he slammed his knife into the post and snarled, “ That’s enough!”  
Both were breathing hard as he continued, “ That could have been your throat. Don’t make me kill you over a mistake. I didn’t kill your father and I don’t want to kill you.”  
As soon as he turned his back his mind still raced as he considered who would try and frame him, maybe someone he’d bested before?  
“Athos!”  
Athos dodges the dagger and they watch it sink into the post as the young man boldly proclaims, “ And that could have been your back, now fight me or die on your knees! I don’t care which.”, a cold fire burning in his eyes.  
Athos pauses, admiring the man’s persistence but felt a small trickle of dread as this fierce young man brandished his sword angrily, “ No?”  
The boy’s eyes dark like a twin pair of pits from hell, he charges forward again but Aramis knocks the reckless man’s sword down, “ He said enough.”, Aramis says calmly, expecting the boy to back down at the thought of fighting two of the King’s Musketeers. Even in grief most could understand the King’s Musketeers were a force to not be reckoned with.  
“ Very well.”, D’Artagnan says, panting before saying, with a sense of eerie calm, the most bold statement yet, “ I’ll fight both of you.”  
Both men tense and bring up their swords in reflex as the young man flies to attack again first Aramis, then again at Athos, still full of energy and ready to continue his tirade against them.  
Instead, Athos slams D’Artagnan’s sword upon the table, Aramis’ sword quick to follow, Porthos jumping in too as the angry D’Artagnan has still not given up what the other three believe to be a quite pointless fight, “ Three of us?”, Porthos asked, half bewildered and half amused, “ Now for God’s sake, put up your sword.”  
Instead D’Artagnan replies as calmly as ever, sweat beading down his face but body still tense with unbridled fury, “ You’ll have to kill me for it.”, quickly breaking their blockade of his sword and flying into the battle fervently.  
“ Lively little bugger, aren’t ya?”, Porthos asks as D’Artagnan continues quite recklessly yet admirably against the three Musketeers, turning from one to the other and back.  
But they quickly drove him to the steps, knocking him onto his back, all feeling uneasy at the dark glint and angry fires in his eyes. He was clearly bloodthirsty and raring for this fight, even from where he sat barely acknowledging he was at their mercy.  
No in fact his eyes were glued to Athos, passion and fiery pure running through his blood as he opened his mouth to speak.  
Instead the young woman from before, Constance, runs in to find the three Musketeers standing over the foolish man their swords pressed to his chest, “ Stop fighting! All of you! Is three against one fair?”  
Athos was the first to draw his sword away, pushing his admiration for the boy down, he had great potential but such recklessness, he’d never amount to much at that rate, “ We weren’t going to kill him.”, he says calmly, turning his back on the man, but feeling his eyes on his back-- like two hot coals upon him.  
“ We weren’t?”, Porthos asked incredulously, a frown on his face as he turned away.  
“ Next time, let us know.”, Aramis added, a faint smile on his face as he drew his sword away too.  
Ignoring the idea of another attractive, crazy, and quite vengeful man running in here to fight, rather uneasy at the thought that the man who just tried to kill him was attractive. Athos turned to the young woman, “ Madame Bonacieux, what are you doing here?”  
“ I followed him because I knew he was going to do something stupid.”, Constance snaps marching past the Musketeers to D’Artagnan.  
“ I don’t need a woman to protect me!”, D’Artagnan snarls, surging to his feet.  
“ Don’t say another word.”, Constance snaps again, her face clearly saying do not argue. She turns to the Musketeers, a look of mild disgust and a great deal of anger as she declares, “ If only men would think instead of fight, there might be more good ones left.”  
Aramis smiles, “ Him, I’m not sure about, her, I like.”  
Of course at this exact moment Captain Treville marches in, several more Musketeers and the most dislikable Red Guard behind and most clearly sighing internally, “ What’s going on here?”  
The five glance at each other but say nothing.  
Treville sighs, “ Never mind. Did you find Cornet?”  
“ He never made it to the monastery.”, Athos offers, “ Give us 20 men and we’ll search the road to Chartres.”, he starts, a plan having already formed earlier.  
Most surprising is when Treville gestured for the Red Guard and says, “ Athos, I’m sorry. These men have come to arrest you.”  
Porthos and Aramis quickly move to Athos’ side as he tries to process what is being said, “ You’re to appear before the King immediately, charged with robbery and murder.”, Treville explains a grim look on his face.  
D’Artagnan looks most confused and rather spited, quickly opening his mouth to declare he was dueling this man for killing his father.  
Treville continued, running over any complaint D’Artagnan could have raised, “ I promised them there’d be no trouble.”, Treville warns.  
Athos looks bewilderedly about, he hadn’t killed anyone or robbed them, he could feel Aramis and Porthos getting ready to defend him as his mind raced. Someone was setting him up, first that wild young man now this, someone was out to get him. Of that there was no doubt, but he gave the captain his sword, fighting would only damn him now.  
He found his eyes drawn to the angry man and he turned to meet his eyes, even as they sent shivers down his spine, he pushed down the feeling and as calmly as he could manage replied, “ I’m not the man you’re looking for.”  
D’Artagnan shook his head and even as Athos turned to be led away he called, “ Why did my father name you before he died?”, he couldn’t believe it wasn’t this man, the very damnedest of proof was from his father’s lips as he died in his arms. He marched after the man, bewilderment clear on his face even as the rage still burned deep in his chest.  
Yet the older man held no answers, only more questions and he coldly replied, “ I don’t know.”, as the soldiers marched him away.  
D’Artagnan was left standing furious and brows furrowed as his only lead was marched away, him no closer to his revenge. Someone had killed his father, and he would find out one way or another, be it this man or someone else, they would pay--and they would pay in blood.


End file.
